


Talking to No One

by WanderlustandFreedom



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Brain Cancer, Cancer, Coping, Crying, Death, Denial, F/M, Funerals, Grief, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Marriage, Mentions of Big Hero 6, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Disney Up, Mentions of Lee Bryce, Modern Era, Original Character(s), Pretending, Sad, Sad Ending, Sadness, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderlustandFreedom/pseuds/WanderlustandFreedom
Summary: "Would she want me to break her heart now or let her live the lie a little longer?" Ben asked Evie as he wrung his hands. "Benjamin Florian Benson, if you're planning on breaking up with her like that, I will-" Evie started. "No!" Ben interrupted. "It's something much worse." In which Mal comes home and something is missing. Nothing will ever be the same again. Modern AU.





	Talking to No One

“Evie, I need you to ask Mal a very important question for me, but you can’t let her know it’s coming from me.”   
“What is it?”  
“If she was forced to pick, would she prefer me to break her heart now, or later?”  
“Benjamin Florian Benson, if you’re thinking of breaking up with her like that, I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shutter you-“  
“No, Evie. I know what we have is true love. I’m not planning on ending us. But I need to know. Please?”  
“I’ll ask, but you owe me an explanation.”  
“Thank you, Evie.”  
________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Mal walked through the door to their apartment and brought with her the smell of grease and oil. She dropped her keys on the counter and left the door unlocked for when Ben came home. The air felt like the artic had decided to migrate to her kitchen and she could smell the popcorn she’d burned in the microwave the night before. A pile of men’s boots and her converse shoes littered the front hall. She fumbled to hang her jacket up over his and tossed her keys onto the counter as she passed through the kitchen.   
Home was here. Home was the one purple wall in the living room where she’d run out of paint and spray-painted black graffiti to cover up the leftover white patches. Home was an entire cupboard filled with Top Ramen, Cup-o-Noodle, and Star-Wars shaped mac and cheese because neither she nor Ben knew how to cook. Home was the hole in the floor where Mal had accidentally dropped her toolbox and left a dent, and home was the mirror that they pretended was a picture frame every time they walked past it.  
Mal walked in front of the mirror and stuck her tongue out. She crossed her eyes and drew streaks on her cheeks with her black, oily fingers. She tried to imagine Ben beside her, with his neat hair and suit, and the thought made her a little sad. “We ought to take a photo of us facing the mirror and have us framed for real. She called over her shoulder as if Ben were home. “Then we can make faces and pretend we’re looking in a mirror instead.”  
She continued on her path to the bedroom. “Or, we could do both?” She offered. “Maybe get a mirror on one side of the room and a framed picture on the other, so we can make faces in the mirror and watch as two of us never actually get older.”  
She paused to examine the door frame. It was damaged from when she’d slammed it a few nights ago. “I need to fix this door.” She told the empty room. “Do you think you can paint it for me when I’m done? You’re better at that then I am.”   
Mal’s eyes abruptly filled with tears, but she couldn’t understand why.   
She pulled the blinds down in their room so that the walls were dark and took a hot shower without the lights on. She rinsed the grime from work off her fingers and scrubbed the roots of her hair down. It had been a few days since she’d showered, but someone had asked her at work how she was doing, and now she had to make sure she was looking put-together.   
She got out, brushed her teeth, and put on some pajamas. “A movie sounds nice.” She called. “Want to try and make some popcorn again?”  
No answer. The apartment was still empty.   
As Mal fumbled in her husband’s drawer for a pair of his long, thick socks, she brushed past something silky. She pulled it out. It was a beautiful flowered scarf that was soft, like satin, to the touch. Mal smiled softly and held it up. “This was from our date when you proposed to me.” She announced to the room. “You kept it? I thought I left it at your sister’s house and someone else took it?”  
When no one said anything back, she folded it up and put it back in the drawer. She put her smartwatch on the charging stand and walked back into the kitchen, where she began to rummage through the dozens of decorative baskets that sat along one wall. She pulled a container of warm, semi-fresh strawberries from one that also contained bread, photos of her and Ben, and flowers with a printed sash around them. “Oh look!” She exclaimed with a smile. “Someone brought us strawberries. How nice!” She looked at the card attached to the basket. “Ah, it’s Evie. Makes sense. You know, she told me about a funny conversation you two had years ago before we even got married.” Mal walked to the kitchen and set the strawberries on the counter. She found a knife she’d used for something, somewhere, sometime, and rinsed it off in the sink. “She said you asked when I would prefer my heart to be broken. Like you were planning on breaking my heart. Silly, huh? You’d never hurt me. You’d never leave me.” Mal’s voice broke, and her shoulders shook as she tried her best to focus on cutting the stems out of the strawberries. They looked like little hearts. Little hearts that she was slicing into twos. Like that old soulmates story about how humans used to be two people connected, and now they were forever looking for their other half. Ben likes that story. He thinks it describes them.  
“Aren’t you going to ask me how work was?” Mal asked. “Someone brought a car in that had a bad rotator. It looked just like the one you used to have! You know, that red 1974 Mercedes-Bent? The one you let me paint our names in purple on the dash even though it looked really bad? Theirs was new, though.” She slid the strawberries onto two plates and heated up two individual-sized mac and cheeses. She took them to the dining room table, which was pushed up against a corner so only two sides were accessible. One side was hers, one side was Ben’s. Ben’s was the left side because he was her left-hand man. The right side of the table was empty but strewn with crumbs and bits of dried sauces. Ben’s side of the table had a collection of old, microwavable mac and cheese, cheese-its, Ramen in various bowls, and other five-minute foods. Mal put the strawberries down next to a brown, sweet-smelling apple and budged a bowl of sour milk and soggy cereal out of the way to put the new mac and cheese in front of Ben’s chair for when he came home.   
“I miss your old car,” Mal told the food as she sat down and began to eat. “Remember that day we played my favorite song for like, an hour while going up the canyon? I think we were with Jay and Carlos, going mountain-biking? The leaves were yellow and red. You almost ran that red light because you were looking over at me. I mean, sure, I was pretending to open the door, but I think it sounds a bit more romantic if we don’t mention that other part. “ Mal took a bite of a strawberry and almost choked as she swallowed it wrong. She got up and walked to the fridge to get some water. “Your jelly doughnut is still in here.” She called. “It’s not going to be fresh anymore. Want me to get you a new one?”   
Quiet.  
Mal took the plate of strawberries to the window and opened it wide. The screen was gone. Mal had knocked it out a few nights ago. She sat on a stool there, rested her elbow on the sill and tilted her head as she snacked. “Do you think your mom still has that photo album of all those pictures from when you were a kid?” She asked. “I want to get a few copies of my favorites. I’ve been meaning to do it for years. Now’s as good a time as any.” Mal smiled softly as she imagined the photos his mom had first shown her back when they’d started dating. His dad had said that, based on seeing her face as she looked at them, he’d known she’d marry him one day. There had been photos of a little boy with a frown as he tried on his first pair of glasses for the camera, and Ben at fourteen with a bat slung over his shoulder, off to play tee-ball. Mal hadn’t even known he’d had bad eyesight as a kid until seeing those photos. She still remembered his red cheeks as he’d explained how he’d gotten eye-correction surgery, back when she’d thought bad eyesight was all there was behind it. Mal had nudged him playfully. “What a wonderful past.” She’d laughed. “Mind if I stick around for the future?” Ben had laughed and kissed her head. “Not at all.” He’d assured her.   
Speaking of sticking around for the future, Ben still wasn’t home.   
Mal pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to the top of her favorites list. Evie, Jay, Carlos, Belle, and Adam had been calling more often, but Ben was still at the top of her favorites list. She dialed his number and held the phone to her ear as it rang. Alas, he did not answer. She rolled her eyes with a smile as his message box started rolling.   
“Hey, you’ve reached Ben! I’m sorry I missed your call. Feel free to leave a message or shoot me a text. If you’re my wife calling me again, I love you and I’ll be home soon. Thanks for calling, goodbye!’ Mal smiled at his voice. I love you and I’ll be home soon. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she ate the strawberries off her plate with her fingers. “Hi, Ben. It’s me again. Just wondering when you’re going to be home. I was thinking we should go see a movie tonight or stay home and finish that wine we left in the fridge. Everyone’s brought over lots of stuff for us too…” She trailed off as she nudged a basket with more flowers and a Christian cross in the center away from her. “If you hurry, I swear I’ll sit through Big Hero Six for the millionth time so that you can see it again. But mark my words, if you’re longer than thirty minutes I’m going to start ‘Up’ without you. And no, I won’t lock the doors to win this time either. Just… hurry home, okay? I love you.” She hung up and stared fondly at the screensaver of her and Ben with a snapchat filter that gave them both crowns. After ten minutes of trying, they’d finally gotten the king’s crown on him and the queen’s crown on her. Their expressions of surprise and excitement were forever frozen onscreen.   
A rock flew through the window and landed on the floor. Mal looked outside with a sharp expression as three boys from the apartment across the street yelled and pointed at her. “Witch Girl!” They shouted. “Witch Girl!”  
“Bicker and holler, squabble and squawk.” Mal hissed. “Twist their words when next they talk!” She slammed the window closed as another smaller rock bounced off the glass. After the first two broken windows, she and Ben had invested in bulletproof glass. Problem solved.   
“That’s right!” One of the boys screamed at the top of his voice. “Go talk to your husband, you witch girl!”   
In her head, she could hear Ben trying to soothe her, even as he frowned. “Don’t worry about it.” He told her. “I like your hair just the way it is. You don’t need to stop the purple just because of some pre-pubescent bullies.”  
Mal walked away from the window with her hands over her ears. Her hair was still wet. Oftentimes, when it was late, and they’d just gotten out of the shower together, they’d come into the kitchen for a midnight snack and start dancing in the light of the refrigerator. Mal had hit her hip more times than she could count on the counter that stuck out a bit too far, and she’d stepped on his toes until they were bruised and blue.   
She pulled the blinds on all the windows in the house to block out the late afternoon winter sunlight and went over to the living room. Blankets and pillows from their bed were piled on top of the cushions. Had they slept here last night? No? Must have just been her, then.   
A case of DVD movies sat beside a case of CD music. In the CD case, a mix-tape from a TV Show called Descendants had a white label on the side: Mal’s favorites. Ben’s favorites was down a few shelves, on an album by Lee Brice. He liked the song ‘I Drive Your Truck’. Mal couldn’t stand the song. Just the idea of someone dying and leaving behind their possessions exactly the way they were before when everything was different hurt her. The idea caused her pain.   
In the movie's case, ‘Up’ was labeled ‘Mal’s Favorite’ in sparkly purple permanent marker. Meanwhile, Big Hero Six had been scribbled on as ‘Ben’s favorite’. Ben saw himself in Tadashi. Someone who genuinely wanted the best for the world, someone who believed in the best for everyone. He loved how Hiro had learned to go on after Tadashi’s death, and he would always poke Mal at the ending and ask: “Would you do that if I died?” Mal fingered her favorite movie with a frown. If she watched this, she’d have to go through the beginning montage with Carl and Ellie’s life, and he’d have to watch Ellie be told she couldn’t have children and die and…  
Not tonight.  
The door to the apartment opened and Mal flipped around so quickly she caught her arm on the wood casing of the DVD Case and sliced her arm open. In the hall stood a tall person wearing blue, who was looking around the apartment and meeting Mal’s eyes with a soft smile.   
Evie, not Ben.   
“Hi, Mal. How are you doing?” Evie asked. Mal examined her friend. Evie had gotten her hair re-dyed mermaid style in shades of blue with small hints of purple and green.  
“Fine.” Mal shrugged.   
Evie wrinkled her nose at the apartment. “It looks awful in here.” She told Mal. Mal didn’t say anything as her friend walked to the kitchen. “Mal, what’s all this food sitting out?” Evie gagged. Mal heard the sink start to run. “You haven’t put any of these baskets away?” Evie called.   
“Evie, what am I supposed to do with three million bouquets?” Mal groaned. “I don’t have any vases. We should just give them all to Belle.”  
“Why are all the sheets off your bed?” Evie asked.   
“I don’t know…” Mal grumbled.   
“Well, come help me find a place for all these things,” Evie commanded, appearing in the living room with a towel slung over her hand. Mal whined, but Evie came over and took her by the hand and lead her into the kitchen, to the wall with the three-million bouquets. She let Mal drop to her knees beside a large one from Ben’s childhood friend Audrey and slipped into the kitchen to clear all the old dishes and food off of the counter. Mal began to aimlessly shuffle through the baskets. She pulled out a collection of photos from one. She was in a couple of them. It looked like old shots from back when she and Ben were in college. She was studying mechanical engineering, and he was looking into becoming a conservatorship specialist, working in Child Protective Services. In one of them, they were dressed in their matching plaid shirts and each toasting a glass of beer to the camera Evie, Jay, Carlos, Doug, and Lonnie were also there. Carlos was mid-shot dumping his glass onto Doug’s head as Ben and Mal smiled into the camera, unaware of the chaos that was about to break out.   
“What’d you find?” Evie asked as she walked over and pressed a cold washcloth to Mal’s bleeding arm.   
“Nothing,” Mal said blankly. “Just old photos of us.”  
Evie saw the photo and smiled. “One of your plaid shirt days.” She said.   
Mal nodded. “I remember this day. He took me home that night.”  
Evie winced. “Too much information.” She kissed Mal’s head. “Your door was unlocked, by the way. I had my key, but you must have left it open.”  
Mal nodded. “It’s been open all week.” She sighed.  
Evie frowned. “You don’t exactly live in the best neighborhood. You should lock your door.” Mal didn’t say anything. She just thumbed over the photo in her hands. Evie’s frown deepened. “You can’t just put yourself in danger because you keep expecting him to come home.” She told Mal. “Carlos said he saw you walking home alone the other night.”  
“Carlos is a snitch.” Mal rehearsed in a bored tone.  
Evie let out a breath slowly and closed her eyes. “Do you need help cleaning out his things? Or moving out of here? Would that help?”  
“No.” Mal snapped. “No, I don’t want to get rid of anything. I don’t…” She choked. “-I don’t want to forget!” The entire place reminded her of innocence and happier times before she knew anything was wrong and before she learned what Ben had been hiding from her for the last thirteen years since they’d met. Every important thing that had happened to her had come to a head in this place. This was where she and Ben had chosen to make their home. This was where they’d argued over movies and fought over shower temperature and fell into bed over, and over, and over. This was what they had built, and sure, it was emptier without him, but it was better that way.  
Evie sighed. The dishwasher rattled behind her. She shook her head and headed to the bedroom. “Just… sort out all the food and I’ll help you put it away. Next week we’ll go grocery shopping. I’m going to make your bed and start your laundry for you.” Evie’s heels followed her out the room and down the hall. Mal clutched the photos to her chest as her body wracked with sobs.   
With blurry eyes, Mal skimmed the messages wrapped around the different bouquets. ‘We’re sorry for your loss.’ One read. Another said: ‘Sending healing prayers and comforting hugs.’ The one that ripped at Mal’s heart was: ‘Sorry about your husband’. She squeezed her eyes shut and refused to look at them.   
Any moment now, the door would open, and Prince Charming would reappear. Any moment now, someone in an official suit would appear and tell her it was a joke. If only time would rewind. If only she could skip backward, go back to before the moment they put him in the ground, carried him out of the church, closed the casket, pronounced him dead. Back to the moment they were walking up the steps together and she knew he was tired, but she didn’t know what was happening when he fell to the ground and begged her to call an ambulance. Before they were in the hospital and Belle was putting her arms around her and explaining how Ben had an irremovable low-grade tumor in his head that had been growing there since he was ten and that he’d never let anyone know because he didn’t want to know what it was like to have people doting on him and sending him sympathetic looks and whispering to everyone around him: ‘He’s a cancer patient’. She wanted to go back to times when Ben’s headaches were simply periodic migraines, and his double vision was just inherited, and when all of the money that he was putting aside really was for a fancy trip they’d go on one day instead of for her when he finally kicked the bucket, bit the coal, and died.   
She remembered all the small things she’d missed now that it was too late. Ben squeezing her hand on their wedding day and asking: “Do you think we’ll still be together in forty years?” and after listening to a song called ‘True Love’ when he leaned over and asked: “What do you think you would do without me?”  
God, she hated it. She hated everything. She hated the moment he’d first smiled at her, the moment they’d first kissed, and all those happy memories because now he was dead and gone, and it hurt. She remembered everything, and every smile, word, and touch ripped her heart in two. Because she and Ben had ended in the middle of the sentence, as a phrase that would never be finished. It was like he’d died in the middle of their happily ever after, and now her fairy tale was a Shakespearean tragedy. And worst of all, there was nothing she could do.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“She said later because then she could ignore that the inevitable was happening.”  
“Thanks, E.”  
“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s going on?”  
“No. I’ll let you know one day, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> I Am So Sorry! I didn’t expect it to be this sad. I actually started crying myself.   
> I do not own Descendants, or that line I quoted from the Crucible, or any of the movies and songs mentioned here, or Taylor Swift’s All Too Well and Miranda Lambert’s Over you, from which this story was inspired.  
> Owie, owie, ow, ow, ow.


End file.
